


keep your head above water (but don’t forget to breathe)

by evanescent



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Linear Narrative, Pacific Rim AU, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanescent/pseuds/evanescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You and Kyoutani… well, I’m not sure if you could be someone’s favorites – no offense, of course – but the way you fight is… Aggressive? Unpredictable?”</p><p>“Harsh and abrasive,” Matsukawa suggests. “But also… greedy, in a way?”</p><p>“Hungry,” Hanamaki rectifies. “For a kill.”</p><p>“Yes. You seem like someone not to cross.”</p><p>“A dark horse.”</p><p>“And that’s how, my dear Yahaba, the world sees Crimson Tower and its pilots,” Matsukawa finishes solemnly.</p><p>Shigeru thinks about it for a moment, slowly drinking the rest of his water – and then, he grins.</p><p>“Not bad,” he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep your head above water (but don’t forget to breathe)

**Author's Note:**

> me: i wanna write a pacific rim au  
> me: *spins my figurative wheel of hq!! ships*  
> me: kyouhaba. perfect
> 
> title taken from breathe by alexi murdoch (i love this song...); many thanks to my beta [marissa](http://kenmasan.tumblr.com/) for proofreading this piece

“Remind me why it’s deemed inappropriate to fight your fellow co-pilot?” Shigeru all but throws himself on the ground to rest against the foot of Rising Water.

“Good morning to you, too,” Watari says from where he’s standing on the ladder, fixing something just above the ankle of the Jaeger. “You didn’t happen to bring coffee, did you?”

Shigeru sighs, but his mouth twitches. “Sorry, I wasn’t in the cafeteria,” he replies and searches through the pockets of his jacket. “But I do have some coffee candies.”

Watari hums. “Better than nothing, I guess,” he states and climbs down the ladder. There’s some oil just above his eyebrow and Shigeru knows better than to ask how it got there; he simply reaches out to wipe it off with his sleeve. Watari blinks at him. “Oh, thanks. So, what did you do this time?” he asks, taking the candy.

“Why do you always assume it’s my fault?” Shigeru hears his voice get a little defensive.

Fixing him with a stare, Watari explains, “I don’t assume anything, but every time you screw up and are aware of it, you take the long way down here to gather enough shit on Kyoutani. And that route leaves the cafeteria out. So, alas, no coffee for me.”

Shigeru opens his mouth to protest, but – Watari’s right, of course. It’s unnerving sometimes, remembering that there’s someone out here who knows him in ways only Kentarou does, but Shigeru thinks he can handle that if it’s Watari. He was part of the same batch of candidates for the program as Shigeru and Kentarou, before the drift simulators made it clear that Watari isn’t cut out to be a pilot and he chose to become one of the engineers instead.

Being honest, Shigeru wonders about Watari from time to time; about his amicable nature and complete inability to establish a mental connection with someone. But he can respect the need for privacy, so he’s never asked questions he can’t take back.

“Okay, you got me there,” Shigeru admits belatedly, crossing his ankles. “But it’s nothing important.” Watari raises his eyebrows. Shigeru sighs. “Whatever. Just let me rest here.”

Watari shrugs. “Do as you want. When Kyoutani comes around, I’ll find out anyway,” he adds with a grin.

“Why are you one of the few people he seems to tolerate?” Shigeru grumbles before shifting into more comfortable position against the foot of the Jaeger. He likes Rising Water; it’s not Crimson Tower of course, but a Jaeger is still a Jaeger.

As time slowly passes, Watari continues to make some minor repairs in the ankle and the foot. One of the newbie technicians comes carrying some spare parts and he does a double take seeing Shigeru just lounging there, before stuttering something out and promptly taking off. Shigeru chuckles quietly.

“Don’t laugh,” Watari chastens him from the other side of the foot. “It’s not nice.”

“But I’m not nice and you know that,” Shigeru replies easily. “Say, are even J-Techs scared of us?”

“They’re not scared of you, you just make them… uncomfortable, I guess.” There’s a small crack and Watari curses softly under his breath. “And it’s mostly because they don’t know you well. Both you and Kyoutani are far less scary on further acquaintance.”

If it was anyone else making such a comment, Shigeru would feel affronted in some way; however, he knows Watari has a different outlook on “scary” than most people.

“You know, back in the training days, I sometimes wondered how it’d be like if you were to be my co-pilot,” Shigeru says then. He’s said it a few times before, but it’s never colored with regret for lost possibilities, for what could have (never) been; it doesn’t even carry nostalgia with itself. It’s just a statement, an unasked question at best.

And Watari always answers in the same way.

“Well, it’s good you don’t have to do that anymore.”

And that much is true, at least.

Kentarou comes a few minutes later, carrying three cups and a bag of something Shigeru suspects (knows) are fried chicken bits. Seeing him with coffee, Watari claps his hands together.

“Bless your pure, golden heart,” he tells him, taking his cup and all but drinking half of it in one go. Shigeru winces at that; he knows for a fact Watari likes his coffee even sweeter than Kentarou. He’s going to have diabetes and burn out his throat at this rate. Watari, however, doesn’t seem fazed and simply announces, “Now I feel brave enough to go tell the purchasing division we need new turbines for Rising Water.”

“Courage and lack of self-preservation instinct aren’t the same thing,” Shigeru calls out to him, but Watari just dismissively waves a hand as he walks away, most likely heading to said division. Shigeru watches him go. “He’s going to die; they’ll eat him alive,” he mutters.

Kentarou just snorts and offers him one of the remaining cups. Shigeru is a little surprised; usually after they fight the mood is sour for at least a day or until they get tired of emitting so much negative emotions through their bond. In all honesty, taking their temperaments into account, it’s better to avoid each other until they’re ready to face the matter as adults.

(They might have been partners for over a year now, they may have six solo kills and trust each other completely – but it doesn’t mean they’ve settled down.)

Shigeru takes the cup.

…

“I’m not doing this without you,” Kentarou says, spits out some blood. “Either we both are on board with this, or we don’t do this.”

Shigeru thinks his right leg is broken and he may have a concussion. Crimson Tower’s leg is also inoperative and they lost the knife. And at this very moment, they’re the only thing standing between the trashing, wild kaiju and the city.

“Alright,” he agrees, wiping the blood trailing from the gash on his forehead. “Let’s bring in our little plasma cannon.”

“Crimson Tower, it’s wiser to play this safe.” Mizoguchi’s voice crackles over the comms. “As soon as Midnight Blue is done with the other one, they’ll come to your aid.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s only them and us now, and we can’t really afford to stall for the time,” Shigeru states and they proceed with a plan.

A lot of things happen after that: the cannon powering up, kaiju closing in on them, its long tail wrapping around Crimson Tower’s leg and almost sending them to their knees, a vicious blow to their left coming just as the cannon fires.

Kentarou screams, or maybe it’s Shigeru, or Crimson Tower, or even the kaiju – and that’s when Shigeru feels himself falling out of the drift, the connection severing abruptly, and then it all fades.

…

“Matsukawa-san, Hanamaki-san –” Shigeru starts when he sees said Rangers sit across from him, but he gets immediately cut off.

“We told you to drop the honorifics, kid,” Matsukawa says.

“Yeah, you and Kyoutani are pilots as well, so we stand as equals at this point.” Hanamaki taps his nose with his index finger and smirks. “Besides, you really saved our asses the other day when Issei screwed up and couldn’t open the knife.”

“Well, I’m _sorry_ my arm got broken before we got to that part, ‘Hiro,” Matsukawa answers lightly, waving his cast and almost knocking over Shigeru’s glass of water.

“Rookie mistake,” Hanamaki teases mercilessly.

Shigeru knows them well enough by now to realize they can go on for hours bickering like that, so he decides to interrupt. “I will consider dropping the honorifics,” he offers and swallows some curry. “So, considering it’s dinnertime and you don’t have any food, how am I supposed to interpret your company here?”

As if on cue, both of them pull out protein bars from their pockets and make a big show of opening them. Shigeru sighs, but it gets lost among the usual buzz in the mess hall.

“You know where Kyoutani is?” Matsukawa asks, laying his cast on the table.

“I’m not sure,” Shigeru admits. They usually meet up for dinner even if they have different schedules or activities throughout the day.

Hanamaki takes a bite of his bar. “Come on, you could at least try to make use of the _profound bond between pilots_ , you know?”

Shigeru rolls his eyes at the mockingly solemn tone, but decides to comply, if only to satisfy his own curiosity. It’s easier to feel and follow the thread of their connection these days; it’s always _right here_ , melted into the edge of his consciousness. Focusing on it now, Shigeru frowns.

“He’s… outside the Shatterdome? Not far I think, but…” He isn’t sure what’s more confusing, Kyoutani’s current location or his emotions that seep through their bond. He’s irritated, disconcerted, somehow distressed, but he doesn’t seem to be in danger or anything like that.

Hanamaki snickers. Shigeru arches a brow.

“Seems Oikawa and Iwaizumi got him,” Matsukawa explains gravely. “Poor kid.”

“They leave early in the morning for Los Angeles for a week or something,” Hanamaki adds. “And since Midnight Blue is grounded because of this spoilsport,” he jabs Matsukawa in the side, “Crimson Tower is gonna be the only operative Jaeger till they’re back.”

“Not like it matters that much, since the next event is predicted in just three weeks, but.” Matsukawa dismissively flips a hand. “They _worry_ about you two.”

Shigeru would be lying if he said he feels completely at ease with the knowledge that they’re the only ones left to fight in a case of emergency. But he isn’t freaking out or anything like that, which is good.

“They get sent out a lot,” he remarks in between eating his curry.

“Well, it’s Oikawa and Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki says, like it explains everything. And Shigeru supposes it does. They’re one of the most highly regarded pair of pilots in the entire program and often get sent out to temporarily support other Shatterdomes. At the same time, Shigeru realizes that this base is truly theirs and it’d be either Midnight Blue or Crimson Tower that were to be permanently re-stationed some day in the future.

“I suppose you aren’t here to give me a pep talk…?” Shigeru asks, just to be sure.

Both men seem fairly amused by the suggestion.

“No way, we came to annoy you,” Matsukawa states, in the same tone of voice most of the people reserve for statements like, “seawater is salty” or “the Jaeger program is overfunded/underpaid, take your own pick”.

“To be fair, annoying Kyoutani is usually more fun, but it’s also more likely to earn us some kind of an injury. And I enjoy eating my protein bars.” Hanamaki dusts off invisible crumbs from his jacket.

“He’s not violent.” Shigeru surprises himself by saying that and the other pilots look at him quizzingly. He hurries to explain, “I mean, he’s generally hard to be around and acts like… well…”

“A mad dog,” Hanamaki supplies, using Oikawa’s nickname for him. Matsukawa nudges his co-pilot in the side with his not-broken arm, still munching on his snack.

“…acts _fiercely_ ,” Shigeru finally settles on, voice maybe a bit too sharp, “but he doesn’t pick actual fights, despite what half the rumors at the base say.”

“Hmm, all bark and no bite then?” Hanamaki leans his chin into his palm. “Disappointing.”

Shigeru snorts. “Well, it’s also not like _that_ , definitely.”

Matsukawa snatches Shigeru’s glass of water and sips at it with a pensive expression on his face. Eventually, he announces, “It’s actually pretty funny, Yahaba. You seems like the type of person to talk and charm your way out of things – you’re not as creepily effective as Oikawa when it comes down to that, but still, pretty close – although, I also believe you wouldn’t think twice about punching somebody if they really pissed you off.”

“Oh, it reminds about a thing a little birdie told me,” Hanamaki sing-songs in his deep, deadpan voice. “Is it true you absolutely _wrecked_ one of the pilots of Striking Lightning on the mats when they visited a few weeks ago?”

“Ah, that.” Shigeru shrugs. “He was being condescending towards our crew and I couldn’t stand for that, so I taught him a little lesson. I did not _wreck_ him, though.” Then again, he didn’t hold himself back; he just fought fair and square.

Matsukawa smirks. “See, that’s the attitude. You and Kyoutani make a good team in a strange way.”

“Oikawa and Iwaizumi are dependable and everybody’s favorites,” Hanamaki says suddenly. “Issei and I are flexible and the internet’s favorites…”

“The _meme dream team_ , someone called us once,” Matsukawa recalls, sounding touched. “Pepe the Frog. Grumpy Cat. All those things our Jaeger could’ve been called, if only the marshall let us.”

“I know, I know.” Hanamaki pats Matsukawa’s cast consolingly. He turns to Shigeru again. “You and Kyoutani… well, I’m not sure if you could be someone’s favorites – no offense, of course – but the way you fight is… Aggressive? Unpredictable?”

“Harsh and abrasive,” Matsukawa suggests. “But also… greedy, in a way?”

“Hungry,” Hanamaki rectifies. “For a kill.”

“Yes. You seem like someone not to cross.”

“A dark horse.”

“And that’s how, my dear Yahaba, the world sees Crimson Tower and its pilots,” Matsukawa finishes solemnly.

Shigeru thinks about it for a moment, slowly drinking the rest of his water – and then, he grins.

“Not bad,” he says.

…

It’s been awhile since the last time Shigeru lost his temper so badly in front of someone other than Kentarou.

“With all due respect, sir.” Shigeru grits his teeth, his grip tightening around the crutches. Standing and walking with them feels strange, and he can’t imagine next month. “I have a co-pilot.”

Irihata watches him impassively from where he’s standing next to the door to the conference room. The marshal doesn’t comment on the clothes he hastily put over his hospital gown and Shigeru doesn’t care, but he can feel other people staring at them.

“Kyoutani’s in a coma,” Irihata says slowly. Shigeru feels his firmly set jaw twitch. “He may wake up in months or not at all; and even if he does, he may not be the same person.”

He says, _not the same person_ , but what he really means is, _not suitable to continue to pilot a Jaeger_. The thought is a little funny - like either Shigeru _or_ Kentarou were suitable to pilot a giant machine capable of ruining a country in the first place.

He just snorts, says, “Oh. he will wake up to pilot again. I’m sure.”

When Irihata looks at him like that, Shigeru wonders what the marshal sees – a scrawny kid who started out in the program with chances no better than most, a pilot who’s just a little _too much_ for his own good, or maybe a man who broke out of his hospital room, looking like death warmed over and arguing with his superior on behalf of a man who can’t.

Shigeru just knows that when he looks at the marshal, he sees a man who’s got older by at least twenty years after the events of the last two weeks.

“That’s good you have such faith in your partner,” Irihata tells him eventually, a shade less formal than earlier. It doesn’t last, though. “But this is war, Yahaba, and we can’t pause it because we’re having trouble. We’re learning this the hard way now.” There’s a stab of pain in his chest, but he chooses to ignore it at the moment. “If Kyoutani is still unconscious once you’re healed, we’re putting you through the search for a new pilot.” At that, Shigeru _bristles_ , but keeps his mouth shut. Irihata’s eyes narrow. “Do come to terms with this, Ranger, otherwise we may be forced to look for a new team to pilot Crimson Tower.”

…

“It wouldn’t kill you to smile sometimes and answer their questions with something other than a growl, you know?” Shigeru tells Kyoutani as they make their way back to the quarters. The Shatterdome feels pretty lively despite late hour after successfully taking care of a predicted double event and the adrenaline after Crimson Tower’s second solo kill is still buzzing in Shigeru’s sore body.

Kyoutani snorts at that. “Yeah, thanks, but no thanks.”

“Oh, come on.” Shigeru pokes Kyoutani’s cheek – a risky move that technically shouldn’t earn him a broken wrist at this point, but still, there’s a possibility. Kyoutani merely swats his hand away and this simple, dismissive gesture seems a lot like victory. “You don’t look half-bad when you’re not wearing your _don’t you even dare approach me_ face. It’s nice to smile for cameras and some good publicity wouldn’t hurt us.”

“Don’t you put on enough of a front for the two of us?” The question sounds like an offhand remark, maybe almost teasing, but there’s an edge to Kyoutani’s voice that tells Shigeru there’s something else to it. He pauses in the dim corridor.

“What do you mean?”

Three steps late, Kyoutani also stops in his tracks and turns around to face him. Shigeru can’t decipher his expression.

“That’s what you do,” Kyoutani tells him eventually. “In front of cameras, our superiors, even techs and other soldiers. You’re faking it.”

Shigeru feels blood rush in his veins, but his voice is cold and even as he asks, “Faking what, exactly?”

“Yourself.” It’s such a blunt answer, even Kyoutani must realize that because he rubs his arm, somewhat uncomfortable. But there’s a furrow between his brows that tells Shigeru he’s not going to back away now. “You’re not as – proper and calm, and good-natured as you pose for others to see you as. You’re not as shallow.” _As Oikawa_ goes unspoken; Kyoutani came to respect both of Rising Water’s pilots for their abilities and experience, but still makes no effort to hide his dislike for Oikawa. But this is not what this talk is about.

Shigeru should have seen it coming, honestly; Kyoutani isn’t afraid of confrontation and _this_ – it has been an issue skittering at the edge of their shared consciousness every now and then, but it’s not like it’s been affecting their fighting in any way, so Shigeru thought Kyoutani wouldn’t bring it up. He was wrong, though, and that’s both a sobering and annoying realization.

“And of course you feel entitled to say things like this,” Shigeru says slowly, with a smirk, “because we have this _amazing_ mind connection that makes you think you know me better than anyone else?”

Kyoutani looks at him, incredulous. “We drift together,” he answers simply, like he thinks it explains everything.

And Shigeru grits his teeth because it always seems _so damn easy_ for Kyoutani to accept this; Kyoutani, who says things like, _You’ll find out in the drift_ or _I just felt it_ ; Kyoutani, who doesn’t ask, _And didn’t you?_

“I don’t understand you,” Shigeru states, doing his best to keep the anger out of his voice “You’re the last person I’d have expected it from, but for the most part, you’re just so… _okay_ with this.” He gestures between the two of them. “With letting somebody into your head. With having this crazy brain connection with someone. You act like it’s nothing, like it’s easy.”

At that, Kyoutani barks a short, sharp laugh and shakes his head, like it’s Shigeru who doesn’t make any sense. “It’s not easy at all,” he says. “But I’ve wanted to be a pilot, more than anything else, and I couldn’t do it alone. It’s not something I can change, this connection, so I just… accept it. All of it.”

That’s a statement loaded with heavy undertones

“So what, you say I don’t?” Shigeru sneers and Kyoutani just looks at him, like he knows. And he does, of course he does; they both do.

In this exact moment, Kyoutani is wavering between calm and angry, but for the most part, he can play cold, and Shigeru? He’s running hot, so they should even themselves out, but still, the longer this conversation goes on, the more possible it is that someone’s going to snap. Shigeru crosses his arms over his chest, so he doesn’t do something stupid like deck Kyoutani.

“I trust you,” he states eventually. It’s a sentiment that doesn’t really get acknowledge out loud by either of them.

“You trust me as your co-pilot,” Kyoutani clarifies. It’s true, so Shigeru nods; he doesn’t know how that happened, but here they are. “But you don’t trust me enough to actually… act like yourself, even though I know.”

“You know jack shit,” Shigeru barks because Kyoutani is finally pushing the right (or wrong) buttons and he’s damn well aware of it.

“I know this is your coping mechanism and I can’t be the one to criticize it,” Kyoutani says and there’s this ugly, raw twist to his lips that spells, _I know your demons just as you know mine_. “But what I want to say – you don’t need it anymore. Other pilots, the damned marshal – not a single one of them is nice or normal. You fought tooth and nail to make it to become a Ranger, we both did. And now we’re here, and as long as we do our jobs, no one’s going to take it away from us. Unless we fucking die first.” He snorts. “So you can stop walking around pretending to be someone you’re not and–”

Kyoutani doesn’t finish, just makes a surprised, angry sound as Shigeru closes the distance between them and grabs a handful of his jacket to shove him against the wall.

“I’m not like you,” he whispers, knuckles white. Shigeru thinks – he thinks about a lot of things. He thinks about the burning streets and an empty home, and an emptier heart; he thinks about wandering scavengers of kaiju’s carcasses and ponds of bright blue blood; he thinks how a choice between a jail and a military wasn’t really a choice at all, and how he felt when he first saw a Jaeger team kill kaiju from up close. And that’s when he thought, _I want to be there_. He lost all he could lose at the very beginning of the invasion and scraped through since then; it’s so different from Kyoutani who had the love and support of his sister and father until the latter died, and he lost his footing, almost strayed from his chosen path, but never really gave up. Shigeru thinks how Kyoutani isn’t exactly comfortable in his own skin, but seems to know himself well enough not to let the world turn him into someone he doesn’t want to be. He’s jealous of that one thing.

Breathing heavily, Shigeru wonders how much of that mess seeped through their bond, but then he almost laughs because it’s not like Kyoutani didn’t know all that. And yet.

“No, you’re not,” he says and Shigeru thinks that there’s a difference between knowing and acknowledging. One corner of Kyoutani’s mouth quirks up slightly. “But still, you’re an asshole who’s pretty crazy in the head, so.”

Just like there’s a rift between being known and being accepted for who you are.

Shigeru unclenches his fists from Kyoutani’s jacket and steps away. He rubs a hand across his eyes and says, “I’m gonna hit the treadmill. Tagging along?”

It’s both a diversion and an olive branch. Shigeru is done talking and thinking for today.

“Fine,” Kyoutani says curtly, like usual, and they set off.

…

He doesn’t spend hours in the hospital room, he doesn’t even _really_ visit Kentarou; people give him odd looks about that, but Shigeru is set in his ways. He doesn’t know how to explain it to them – it’s Kentarou’s body in the room, yes, he’s alive, but unconscious, but still there –

But that’s not quite true.

Kentarou is the space on Shigeru’s left where he turns to make a comment and remembers no one’s there a bit too late; he’s a cup of coffee (two sugar with a drop of milk) that Shigeru drinks every other morning, even though he takes his black; he’s a phantom sensation of missing limbs and pain in his sternum. It makes Shigeru feel off balance, this sense of dislocation; how Kentarou seems to be everywhere but where he should be.

Sometimes Shigeru takes a detour on his way back from physical therapy and drops by to see no changes with Kentarou. He always says something to the otherwise empty room, though.

Except this time, it’s not empty.

Shigeru feels his stomach drop when he sees Rei, Kentarou’s younger sister. He wonders if he can leave unnoticed, but then she turns her head to look at him.

“Shigeru-san,” she greets him, the same way she always does, except–

He hasn’t seen her after the incident.

“Hey, Rei.” He closes the door and walks over the bedside, but makes no move to sit down in the chair next to her. “Shouldn’t you be at school? High school is pretty important, you know.”

“Don’t worry, I got this worked out with the principal after some… talking.” She scrunches up her nose in the same way Kentarou does. The two of them look quite alike for siblings, especially with their hazel eyes and sharp chins. Rei peers at him and puts a finger underneath her eye. “What happened to you?”

And she’s quite perceptive, another thing which she may or may not have in common with her brother, depending on the situation. Shigeru sighs.

“Let’s just say I had a… disagreement with someone,” he says, rubbing his cheek. He used a foundation to cover up his black eye – he doesn’t particularly need more tension with the marshal and the staff in general – but it probably wore off during physical therapy.

Rei crosses her arms. “You know, I’m sure my brother wouldn’t approve of you getting into trouble.”

Shigeru looks at her. She makes a face in turn.

“Okay, fine, we both know that’s not true.” Her eyes drift back to Kentarou and her gaze softens. “If anything, onii-chan wouldn’t approve of you getting into trouble _without him_.”

Shigeru grips his crutch tighter. (He’s using just one now; having a free hand is useful.) He isn’t prepared for this part; actually, he hoped to avoid this – the confrontation.

“Listen, Rei, I’m–”

“Please don’t apologize.” Her voice is clipped, but not unkind. “Onii-chan knew the risk when he went into the program, but he wanted to become a Ranger regardless. I’ve always respected his decision, even when our father initially didn’t like it.” Rei pursues her lips for a moment before exhaling quietly and shaking her head. “Anyway, the point is, I don’t blame you, Shigeru-san, so you can stop avoiding me when I visit the base.”

He takes his time to analyze her statement, looking for insincerity and finding none. Just then he accepts it for what it is.

“Do you know your brother actually kicked me out of the drift then? In case he…” It’s not a pleasant memory and Shigeru doesn’t finish his thought; Rei is a smart girl and she’ll figure it out. “If he didn’t do that, maybe I’d be laying here as well.”

Rei is silent for a long moment before she laughs. “Onii-chan has always had a unique way of showing he cares,” she muses and this – Shigeru can get behind this. “Maybe you actually would have preferred that, and maybe I will sound selfish – but I’m glad you’re okay, Shigeru-san. Or, as okay as you can be.”

Shigeru never had any siblings, but Rei sometimes makes him forget about that.

“Thank you,” he tells her quietly. She hums and checks the time on her wristwatch; then she stands up and leans over to kiss Kentarou’s forehead. It strikes Shigeru as an almost painfully gentle and honest gesture.

“I will come next week, onii-chan. I hope you’ll be awake by then,” Rei says softly.

As she collects her huge backpack, Shigeru asks, “Are you going already?”

“My bus leaves in an hour, but I wanted to talk to Saeko-san first!” she exclaims. Shigeru huffs when she suddenly grabs his arm, a big smile on her lips. The shift in the mood is _drastic_. “It’s actually really good she’s been transferred here, she’s one of the best scientists on kaiju, after all. Think you can take me to her?”

“Rei, that’s great, but I’m pretty sure she’s busy now–” he starts logically.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I ran into her the last time I visited and we made an appointment, she should be free now.” Rei waves a hand at him. “I just need you to be my cool and tough guide, so I won’t get stopped every five minutes to confirm my pass and such.”

“You realize you’re asking the guy with a broken leg to be your ‘tough guide’, right?”

“You’re still a Ranger,” Rei remarks. “Hang, on let me just–” She rummages through her backpack and emerges with a pack of tissues in hand. She wipes away the remains of his foundation as gingerly as she can, but Shigeru still winces. “Gee, didn’t you put any ice on this? Anyway, now you look tough. And don’t worry, I will let you use my foundation later. Can we go?”

Shigeru sighs, strangely feeling both exasperated and fond. Despite being such different characters, there’s at least one other thing Kentarou and his sister have in common: they’ll probably have something to do with his death one of these days.

…

The first time Shigeru and Kyoutani drift is – voracious.

It’s not a word he’d associate with Kyoutani – the moment they met not so long ago, the same batch in training, the very first thing that came to Shigeru’s mind was, _this one is turbulent_. Like there were waves crashing under Kyoutani’s skin, restless to pry him open, to get out and flood everything in sight. He hasn’t seen many people like him on the streets, where almost everybody was dead behind the eyes.

But still, in Shigeru’s opinion, it didn’t explain why the guy was such an asshole.

It’s strange to recall that now, to put an image of Kyoutani who snapped at the teachers and cut short training sessions to the point of almost getting kicked out of the program altogether, with this Kyoutani on Shigeru’s left in Crimson Tower – gruff, curt, and unapproachable as always, yet distinctly different from how he was months ago. Or maybe it’s just Shigeru’s wishful thinking; they were deemed drift compatible, but that’s all there’s to it.

(But he remembers the moment – a staff pressed over a pulse point on his neck as his own is pointed at Kyoutani’s sternum, and the sensation even he couldn’t deny, the sensation of things clicking _just right_.)

Shigeru rarely finds himself at a loss for words, but he’s pretty sure he should say something to Kyoutani, if only to fill the silence. He has no idea what, though.

“You know that–” he starts eventually, but Kyoutani just cuts him off with a vaguely affirmative growl. Shigeru scowls at him. “You don’t even know what I was about to say.”

“Initiating neural handshake.” Mizoguchi’s voice seems to come from far away.

Kyoutani glances at Shigeru, rolling his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I’ll find out in the drift,” he just says.

Somehow, Shigeru feels like he’s just lost an argument here.

Meeting Kyoutani’s mind in the dift, his jumble of memories flowing by them ( _a girl with messy ponytails kicking a soccer ball in her yellow dress; dusty ruins of a stadium with a few bars of iron fence left untouched; a voiceless feature on the news showing death every day; a man in a military uniform squeezing his shoulder, words, “If that’s what you want,” echoing on and off_ ), mixing with Shigeru’s own – he can’t lie, it’s overwhelming at first. And even when they disappear, when it’s only him and Kyoutani there, in the vastness of Crimson Tower of their minds, it still seems like _too much_ – but at the same, it’s _not enough_.

With every fiber in his body, Shigeru feels uncountable laps he made on the track in the base, litres of sweat he spilt on the mats in the training room, hours he spent in the simulator. He remembers the things he’s lost on his way to this moment, the sacrifices he must have made to be here. They’re as much his as Kyoutani’s, really, and underneath all of that – there’s something ringing clear, sentient and ravenous, threatening to swallow him whole if he can’t handle it.

Shigeru thinks it sounds a lot like, _finally_.

They seem to fall out of sync and drift after that, but it’s not abrupt or dramatic and Shigeru inhales once, twice to get the grip on the reality again.

“Crimson Tower, are you alright?” Mizoguchi asks.

“We’re fine,” Shigeru answers, casting a glance at Kyoutani who looks mildly perplexed. Shigeru knows he feels _a whole fucking lot_ perplexed. “How was that?” he asks then, guarded curiosity in his voice.

“Neither of you chased the Rabbit and you held a stable connection for over three minutes, that’s good for the first try,” Mizoguchi tells them. “And your sync scores are – well, they’re not like Rising Water’s,” Shigeru lets himself to roll his eyes at that because _really_ , “but they’re pretty good.” There’s a certain edge in the man’s voice that translates to _better than expected_. “You up for the next try?”

Shigeru turns to Kyoutani and asks, “Ready to go?”

At the question, Kyoutani looks at him, head cocked to the side; there’s a small furrow between his brows as he regards him and Shigeru feels a little defensive, ready to repel whatever Kyoutani throws his way. But then the other man’s features relax slightly and there may be the smallest smile on his lips as he says, “Ready.”

…

It’s almost four in the morning when Shigeru suddenly wakes up. For a moment, he can’t place what set him off, but then he feels it: a pulling of some kind through his bond with Kentarou which must mean something had happened. Shigeru isn’t taking chances with “something,” though; he throws some clothes over himself and takes the crutch – he doesn’t actually need it anymore, but it’s better to keep up appearances – and leaves his quarters, making his way to the hospital ward.

Once he’s there, he hesitates in front of the door to Kentarou’s room. But it’s been a long time since he kept second-guessing himself, so Shigeru swiftly opens it and goes in. The buzz and beeping of machines is no different than usual, but now it just makes him feel exhausted and wired, like the events of the last weeks are just catching up with him. There’s no visible indication Kentarou is awake, but Shigeru knows better than that and sits in the chair by the bed.

“Don’t you think you’ve slept long enough?” he asks and waits; sees a muscle in Kentarou’s face twitch and his eyes open slowly. Shigeru inhales sharply as he feels flashes of a ripping pain from their last drift wave across their connection, ghostly remains of memories. He lets them wash over him, over both of them, and grabs Kentarou’s hand, squeezing it. It feels grounding.

Kentarou looks at him for a long moment before his mouth breaks into something resembling a smirk, or maybe even a smile. “You look like shit,” he croaks out.

“Speak for yourself,” Shigeru huffs and rubs the heel of his palm across his eyes; he isn’t going to cry. He straightens in his seat and levels Kentarou with a look. “I can’t believe we just left Hanamaki and Matsukawa hanging like that. Do you realize they sent fucking _Striking Lightning_ here to be a temporary assist for them? And the marshal wanted to look for a new co-pilot for me if you didn’t wake up soon.” Kentarou only grumbles in reply and Shigeru resists the urge to smack him upside down. “Don’t growl at me. Like I’d want another crazy person in my head, asshole.”

It’s reaching out, this statement; Shigeru doesn’t have the heart to ask, _Are you still up to kicking some kaiju asses?_ Maybe it’s because he’s afraid of the answer, maybe because of some misplaced sense of subtlety. It’s not really like that between them; they’re always firm with each other and gentle when the situation calls, but it all came with time.

Some things you need to re-learn, and some you never stop learning.

“Like anyone else could stand being in your fucked up head,” Kentarou states and it’s enough; a wave of relief comes washing over Shigeru.

Sometimes, some things are as simple as that, really. He smiles.

“Heal up, and let’s go back out there,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not telling who the pilots of striking lightning are, but one of them is definitely shirabu or futakuchi
> 
> also cheers to me for writing this without killing anybody (on-screen, i mean *sweats suddenly* anyway...)


End file.
